Breaking Hearts
by Fabius Maximus
Summary: The Higher For Hire family's suffered from hard knocks...but will this be the Knock out blow?  Sequal to  "The Shadow of Death"
1. Default Chapter

The storm was a cold one, and the two fronts collided directly above Cape Suzzette.  The rain didn't just fall, it sheeted down, in solid curtains, and the wind conspired to insure that even covered sidewalks were no protection from the icy deluge. People got off the street, and even drivers decided that this was the time to stay indoors, and let the worst of the storm pass.  Only those who had no choice were out in the rain…including one bear cub in a cheery yellow slicker.

            The eight year old walked home through the rain.  Molly Cunningham knew she should have waited for mom…but she also knew that mom was really busy.  The November shipping rush was the time that H4H made some of its most profitable runs. Mom didn't _need_ to have to come and get her because the bus had broken down.  

            Besides, the bear cub thought, mom was too worried about her polio.  That was over…almost two _years _ ago.    

            "She thinks I'm going to break if she drops me." Molly grumped.  The bearess immediately felt bad about that.  Mom had _cried_, on and off, for months later, especially when Molly had a hard time at the rehabilitation center.   But it wasn't like she was the worst off.  What about Jereem, with his leg that never seemed to get better?  The child shook her head at that.  And Jereem _always_ seemed to be running into things and getting bruises…even his mom was clumsy like that.  It was sad too—it always seemed to happen when their dad was home.  Molly shrugged, and looked down the long streets to the waterfront. 

            That was a long way.  Further than she'd ever walked even before she got sick.  The cub paused, looked back up at the school, its lights still on, and then set her face and looked back down.

            No.  It was just a little rain, and it was just a little walk.  She'd _run_ when Covington had chased her, and this wouldn't be half the work. Molly ignored the warning twinge from her legs, and started marching on.  

            Then it _really_ started raining. The icy droplets whipped up into her face, ran down the inner side of the hood and sent icy trails down her back.   Her legs started aching.  Molly bit her lip and refused to give in.  She _would not_ be the first one to say uncle.  Besides, Doctor Gosslin had always said exercise was important.  

            Of course, the bear cub conveniently forgot his other comment.  "Within reason".  

            ***

            "Baloo?  Balooo!"  Becky called, waking up the sleeping bear.  

            "Oh Becker's why'd you go and do that…I was dreaming about one of Louie's Triple fudge-"

            "I know Baloo, they could hear your stomach growling up in Khan Towers."  Becky said.  "Where is Molly?  The bus-"

            "Probably got held up by the storm." Baloo said.  "That's why Kit's late too."  Becky nodded uneasily and went back to her work, peering out at the curtains of rain.

            "Baloo…. Can you and Kit do that delivery for the Patagonia Prancing Pony Celebration?"  She asked.  Baloo took a drink of soda and frowned. 

            "Sure, Beckers…if the weather breaks like the forecaster said it would."  He brightened. "Hey, that gives time for Louie's!"   Now Becky frowned, and it had nothing to do with her schedules. 

            "Baloo…I saw the doctor's note."

            "Aw Becker's, they just worry…they're not happy unless they find something wrong."  Becky put her paperwork down and looked at him.  

            "You're not 18 anymore Baloo." Becky said, in a forcing reasonableness into her voice.

            "Becker's I'm fine."  Baloo said, protesting.

            "That's not what the doctor said."  Becky said.  Noting his frown, she forced reasonableness into her voice.  "Baloo, you also need to think about Kit."  Baloo shook his head and chuckled.

            "Don't be a worry wart, Beckers',  I'll be fine."  Becky sighed inwardly.  

***

            Molly leaned against the wall, shivering.  It had only been five miles, but now she could barely see five feet. The rain had started thundering down, the odd flash of lightning and bellow of thunder giving counterpoint to the hiss  of the raindrops hitting the asphalt.  The odd passing car had splashed her in the freezing water, and now her legs…they throbbed in agony.  Worse, they resisted her commands, barely moving and threatening to give out at any minute, trembling with the strain of standing up.  Molly punched the wall in anger.  She liked playing more than any other girl in class, so why did _she_ get something that made it a torment.  The eight year old gave a brief sniffle as she remembered how easy it had been before she'd gotten sick, and how hard it was now.  She still tripped and fell flat on her face when she didn't remember to watch and think about what she was doing.  Maybe she should go to the drug store she'd just passed and call mom.  

            "No." Molly said.  She was better than she had been, and she was not going to let everybody  see that she was a quitter.  She hunched over, trying to conquer the shivering that ran through her icy, soaked body, and started moving on, far slower than she had. 

***

            Kit leaned against the bus window and looked out at the rainy street.  The cub didn't mind water, but right now he was happy to watch it from a dry bus. Kit smiled.  It was a Friday, he'd passed all his tests. (Even Ms. Thompson had said he had improved), and they'd be making deliveries, with a stop at Louie's, if he knew Papa Bear.  The rest of the Jungle Aces were scattered through the bus, each one waiting with varying degrees of joy or trepidation for the end of the ride, depending on the test scores of the day.  The  Jungle Aces would be meeting that Saturday night, rain permitting…and the fact that the it was a long weekend made it even better.  

            In fact, there was nothing between him and a good weekend!   Nothing except for a familiar figure in a cheery yellow slicker that had evidently just tripped and fallen on the side of the road that is.  Kit blinked and leapt up.

            "Mr. Thorkdon!"  He shouted.  The driver, an elephant turned around and started to tell Kit to sit down, but Kit overrode him.  "Pull over, quick!  That's Molly!"

            The elephant turned saw what Kit was talking about and pulled to the side of the street.  Kit was the responsible one, he reminded himself.  Not that he didn't have…youthful energy, but Thorkdon trusted Kit.

            "What's she doing there, Cloudkicker?"  He asked, "She's soaked."

            "I don't know…she was supposed to take the bus like me."  Thorkdon slapped his head.  

            "That's right, the elementary school bus broke down—I  guess she decided to walk it out."

            "In _this?"_  Kit said, hurrying to the door.  Behind him, two seniors looked at each other and nodded. The male panther gallantly helped his girlfriend to Kit's seat, abandoning their seat directly under one of the heating vents.  

***

            Molly had made it another half block, and than suddenly the pavement had come up and hit her in the face.  The bear cub struggled to her feet, gasped, and swayed.  It felt like she was walking barefoot on broken glass.   

            "No."  She said, fighting a hitch in her voice, "I'm _not_ quitting." That phrase had almost become a mantra over the last two years.    She struggled to take another step and started to feel herself topple again, right into a puddle…

            When all of a sudden a pair of strong hands caught her and kept her from falling.  Molly gave a tiny squeak of surprise and looked up at Kit's concerned face.

            "Molly…what's happening?  Why didn't you call Ms. Cunningham?" Kit asked.  Becky would _never_ have let her walk in this weather. 

            "It was just a little storm.  I can walk that far."  Molly said, a catch betraying her voice.  Kit looked at her and realized that she could barely stand. 

            "Your legs are hurting?"  Kit asked. 

            "No!  I'm just a little tired!"  The cub snapped and then gave an explosive sneeze.  

            "Sure they aren't."  Kit said, "C'mon, let's not keep the bus waiting."  Molly looked at the bus, and frowned, her face turning red. 

            _What?, she wants to walk the rest of the way…oh._  Kit thought, after all that walking, her legs were probably locked up tighter than a safe…but to be _carried_ into a bus full of high school kids… yeah, he understood.   He also knew what to do.  Kit grabbed her by her backpack straps, and raised his voice so everyone could hear it. 

            "Gee, Molly, what are they giving you to carry home? Lead bricks?" As he said that, he pulled up on the backpack, incidentally taking most of the weight off her legs.  "I'll help you with this—I don't want it falling into the wet."  With that, and a few judicious moves, Kit helped Molly into the bus, with nobody the wiser that _he_ was actually doing most of the walking.  Seeing the empty front seats, he nodded at the seniors gratefully.

            "Thanks."

            "Don't mention it."  The girl replied. Mr. Thorkdon started the bus up again, and when he caught Kit's eye, gave a nod of approval.  Thorkdon hadn't been fooled for a second.  Kit managed to get the shivering Molly into the seat and pulled off the cheery yellow slicker hat, revealing her soaked hair from where the wind had blown the rain up and under it.  

            "Wow, she's soaked." Ernie said.  He handed Kit his jacket.  "Here, take this." 

            "Ernie, don't you-"

            "Nah, my place is just a few feet from the bus stop and I have another jacket at home."  Kit nodded, looking at Molly, now shivering uncontrollably even in the heated bus.  He wrapped the jacket around  the smaller cub.

            "Thanks Ernie."

            "Don't worry."  Ernie said, as he and S.R. both shared a worried look.  The Jungle Aces were among the few who knew all about Molly and her illness.  "She'll be OK?"  Ernie said in a lower voice.  

            "Sure."  Kit said with a confidence he didn't completely share. "Just a little longer walk than she thought it was, right Molly?"  An explosive sneeze answered him.

            Mr. Thorkdon actually drove down to Higher for Hire, letting Kit and Molly off close to the entrance.   Molly this time refused Kit's help, walking forward, pain evident in every step. Kit hovered over her, but didn't try to stop her, although he _did_ open the door for her.

            "OH Good, Kit, I-_Molly!"_  Rebecca came hustling over, "You're soaked!  What happened, was the bus late, why didn't you call, why are you here with _Kit?"  _The eight year old looked up and started to walk forward, when her legs gave out again, Rebecca grabbing her just in time to save her from a fall.  Becky saw her daughter's eyes squeezed shut against the incipient tears. 

            "Kit, what happened?"  Baloo asked.

            "Molly tried to walk to here from the school, Baloo."  Kit said, looking worried.  Becky heard that and looked down at Molly even as she was pulling off the slicker, revealing the only slightly-less-wet coveralls on underneath.

            "Molly Elizabeth, what were you thinking?"  Becky said.  "In this weather?  You'll be lucky if you don't catch a terrible cold…and how are your legs?"

            "They're fine mommy." Molly said, just before a sway made the lie obvious.  Kit felt he had to chime in, although he hated it, made him feel like a snitch. 

            "She'd fallen on the side of the road when I saw her, Ms. Cunningham."  He paused, "She couldn't make it into the bus on her own."

            "Oh fine, are they?"  Becky said, dropping down on one knee and lightly touching Molly's legs, feeling the knotted muscles and trembling strain in them. Without waiting for an answer she picked Molly up and put her back in Baloo's large easy chair. 

            "Baloo?  Could you go get the salts and the spare clothes? I have to…talk, with my daughter."  Baloo and Kit took the hint and left, the bear turning up the heat on the way out.   Molly looked pleadingly at them as they left, but then the door closed, sounding like a judges gavel. 

            "Well?"  Rebecca said to her daughter.  "What do you have to say for yourself, Molly Elizabeth Cunningham."  She paused then continued, "I cannot believe you did that—even on a perfectly clear day you wouldn't walk all that way, and _today_ of all days,"  She took a deep breath, "You'll be lucky if you don't catch a cold that will last the next month, and-"

            "I'm…I'm sorry mommy." Molly said, now with more than a hint of a hitch in her voice.  Rebecca looked at her daughter, and saw tears beginning to mix with the water from the rain.  She sighed, and got up, sitting besides Molly. (any chair fit for Baloo could definitely seat two normal people), and pulled her to her.   

            "Than why did you do it, sweetie?"  Becky asked, "I would have come and gotten you, or Baloo, or Uncle Wildcat."  She smiled, "And don't say I was too busy…I'm never too busy for you."

            "I…"  Molly didn't speak for a moment, "I just wanted to do it myself."  She said, staring at the floor.  The quivering in her body was no longer from the cold. "I wanted to be able to do it myself."  Rebecca pulled her daughter to her, holding her tight, feeling her trying to stifle the tears.  

            "Oh baby… I know you wanted too."  Becky said, "But you never did that even before you… got sick."

            "I was only six then." Molly's muffled reply came.  "I tried, Mommy, I _really _tried… my legs hurt, but I kept going…and then I fell over."

            "I know sweetie, I know." Becky said, "Just be glad Kit saw you."  

            "He pretended that my back pack was heavy, so he had to hold it up."  The eight year old said, "So nobody saw that I couldn't walk."  The cub paused, and continued, honestly, "But I couldn't."  She paused, "I wonder if I'll _ever_ be able to walk like I used to."

            "Honey, I hadn't told you yet, but tomorrow we're going to visit Dr. Gosslin for your check up.  How about if we ask him."  Rebecca said. 

            "He's nice." Molly said, before being interrupted by an explosive sneeze. "He doesn't talk to me like I'm a little kid."  She paused, "But I wish I could just get better… Everyone used to want me on their team, but now I always get picked last for games."  Rebecca winced.  Teachers had commented on her daughter's abilities, and how other children liked to play with her, before the Polio, damn it.  Molly continued.  "If I just keep exercising, like the doctors told me, I'll _have_ to get better, won't I Mommy?"  Rebecca smoothed Molly's hair back.  

            "Sweetie, you have to pay attention to _everything_ they say.  Remember that Dr.  Gosslin also said you had to take things in moderation?"

            "That was two years ago—forever!  I don't_ want_ to be moderation, I want to _win!"_  Molly said.  Rebecca smiled.  That was Molly alright…and it sounded like some of her sorrow was dissipating into determination.  

            "Molly…" Becky could now confess what had been her deepest fear two years ago.  "I didn't know if you would ever be able to walk, or run, two years ago.  You're doing so wonderfully well I can't even really describe it…as long as you don't try to walk five miles in a downpour."  There was a sudden clatter from the door.  

            "I got it Beckers!"  Baloo said, coming through the door, a pan of steaming water in his hands and some towels. 

            "Thanks Baloo."  Rebecca said. Molly twitched looking at the steaming water, the smell of Epsom salts rising from it.  Kit and Baloo could see the child visibly preparing herself.  They glanced at each other  

            "Baloo, I have some homework upstairs."  Kit said, "Could you give me a hand?"  Baloo nodded, trudging up after Kit.

            Becky waited until the two were gone, removing any witnesses, before she started massaging responsiveness back into Molly's legs.  Molly gasped, as the flood of tingling, pins and needles feelings started, and grew into a fiery torment.  Becky bit her lip.  This had to be done, or Molly would be practically unable to walk in the morning.  One particularly sensitive muscle caused Molly to cry out, the sound unwillingly forced out from her clenched teeth. Becky looked to see Molly trying to keep her face set, tears freely falling from her eyes. 

            "I'm sorry, Molly."  Rebecca said, feeling her own eyes tear up.  If there was ever a way to take the pain upon herself-  but there wasn't.  

            "It's… okay  Mommy…" Molly said, another whimper forcing its way past her throat.  "I won't be a big baby."

            "Oh Molly, you're not."  Rebecca said,  "I know it hurts…and if you want to cry, go ahead.  You won't be any less my brave little girl."  She continued, kissing Molly on the forehead.  "Everyone cries…it's how we get the pain out to face tomorrow."  Rebecca continued.  

            _At least right now, Molly can cry._  Becky thought.  Kit and Baloo had helped with her therapy, but it was plain that Molly would rather gargle ground glass than be seen crying in front of her big brother and Baloo…and the times when she hadn't been able to keep from doing so, the humiliation, however unwarranted, had made things doubly devastating.  Kit and Baloo had quickly developed a sixth sense for when they could help her, or when only Rebecca could.  Rebecca…or Wildcat, since the mechanic had an incredible way with children.  

            Becky continued the massage, as gently as she could, occasionally smoothing Molly's hair back as the child started to cry, still resisting, the  sobs unwillingly forced out of her throat.  Becky kept reminding herself that it did no good for Molly to see her mother burst into tears.  

            Finally, it was done, and Molly stood up. Too fast for Rebecca's taste, but she wasn't' about to say anything, not after what Molly had just been through.  The eight year old walked around the room, carefully, concentrating on every step, then nodded. 

            "I'm better now, Mommy." Another sneeze interrupted her statement, and she swayed, more from exhaustion now, Becky judged. 

            "Well,"  Becky said, "I think we'd better get ready and go to bed…Would you like to stay here tonight?"  Molly's eyes brightened at that.  Becky smiled. That was all the answer she needed.  Equally importantly, Rebecca did not fancy trying to negotiate the streets in this rain, especially when it was supposed to be clear tomorrow.

            Ten minutes later, Molly was napping on the couch. As much as she resisted, Rebecca expected that the cub would be sleeping most of the afternoon and night.  That walk had taken a tremendous amount of energy out of her. 

            Baloo peeked down and than walked quietly down the stairs, the big bears light tread belaying his bulk.  

            "Pigtails is resting?  Good."  He said.  "Pretty bad this time?"  Rebecca rubbed her eyes and nodded.

            "Yes… but I understand why she did it.  Molly thinks that if she pushes herself far enough, hard enough, she can force everything back the way it was."  Kit was now joining them and the teenager spoke up.

            "Miss Cunningham…Molly's probably stronger than most of the other kids in her class."  He shrugged, "she probably exercises more than any of them, boy or girl."  

            "'An she's determined."  Baloo said, "Shortstuff doesn't give up."

            "I know."  Rebecca said.  "I know… but I asked Dr. Gosslin to tell her everything tomorrow…and I hope that I was right." Baloo and Kit both looked at her, both now very concerned.

            "Is there something we don't' know about?"  Baloo asked.  Becky looked up and shook her head.

            "Oh no… its just that, well, over the last six months, Molly's rate of improvement has really slowed up… Dr. Gosslin thinks we might be seeing a plateau."  Kit blinked.

            "How long?"  The teenager asked, as he and Baloo shared a look.  Rebecca smiled inwardly.  Both Baloo and Kit had been incredibly helpful over the last two years, along with Wildcat.  In fact, not once had Becky been forced to cancel a therapy appointment for Molly due to unexpected late arrivals by her flight crew—if anything, Baloo was there _ahead_ of time. 

            And there were the times Baloo had taken over for Becky, especially after-  She shook her head. No reason to be woolgathering now.  Baloo and Kit wanted an answer.

            "He doesn't' know."  Becky said.  "Dr. Gosslin doesn't think this is the end of her improvement, but he does believe we might have to wait a little while….I just don't know how Molly's going to handle it."

            "And he's going to tell her?"  Becky nodded. 

            "She deserves to know."  She sighed, "Baloo, Kit, if this was just a matter of a month or so, I wouldn't…but Molly will realize she's not getting improving at the same rate, so I want her to hear it from a doctor, instead of figuring it out on her own—at least he can tell her that this is a plateau, not the end."  The two others nodded.

            "That makes sense, Miss Cunningham."  Kit said, "Molly gets _really_ angry if she thinks someone's been lying to her."  Baloo nodded, but smiled.

            "Becker's I think you're worrying too much— Pigtails knows it's a long road, 'an she gets frustrated some times.  But she hasn't given up yet, has she?"

            "Oh, Lord no."  Becky said, gesturing to the raincoat hanging on the jacket peg.

            "Well, let's not borrow trouble."  The gray bear said. 

            Later, after dinner, Rebecca tucked Molly into bed, in this case the couch, while she would sleep on a cot that Baloo had set up for her.  Molly barely twitched, and Becky relaxed into sleep, as the lights went off upstairs and downstairs alike.

            Later, Molly opened her eyes.  The room was dark and quiet, with only the breathing of her mother breaking the light sound of the rain pattering on the roof.  The cub got up, swung her legs down, and stood.

            "I'm _not_ giving up." Molly said softly.  The cub started walking, from one side of the room to the other, silently padding back, and forth, back and forth.  Molly's expression was set—Mommy had forgotten the night time exercises, but she wouldn't. She kept going, until she felt the warning twinge, and than slowed up, moving carefully.

            Put out one leg, brace it, put her weight on it, make certain it would hold the weight, then swing out her _other_ leg and repeat the process. As the walk continued, the process most people took for granted required more and more conscious effort and concentration.  Finally, Molly stopped. The cub was good with math—her teachers had given her a gold star! She had kept track and she'd walked at least 400 yards.  Molly stood in the silent room for a second, than nodded in evident satisfaction, before crawling back into her impromptu bed.  

            Unnoticed by the cub, Becky watched her get back in bed, and pull the covers up to her chin.  Rebecca had woken the moment her daughter had touched the floor, and had watched over her as she performed her lonely march. 

            It was David, Rebecca thought.  She had been the loud one, she knew.  In fact, some of their friends had joked about "poor David", when they were married.  But David had possessed reservoirs of strength that few other did.   Becky wondered if she would have been able to endure what her daughter had…but she had no doubts that David would have endured it…and triumphed.  

            _Oh David, My Love, I miss you so much._   She said in her mind, _I miss your strength, your love…_  She paused, _And I so wish you could see our daughter now.  We always knew she was so beautiful…but now you can see how she's grown up so brave.   I love you, my husband… I always will, wherever you are…_  Rebecca felt sleep come upon her, and this time, satisfied she let it take her.   


	2. Chapter II

            The next morning, Rebecca woke up to see Molly, already up and dressed, eating cereal at the table.    Bright sunlight shone through the windows, proving that the storm had departed for other regions.  

            Becky got up, wrapped her robe around her, and kissed her daughter on the cheek.  

            "Ready for the day?"

            "Yes!"  Molly said.  Rebecca felt a twinge at what Dr. Gosslin was going to tell her today, but she suppressed it and went and got dressed.  Molly had seemingly forgotten completely about yesterday's problems, and she seemed to have no problem getting about, although even now, Becky's trained eye could see where Molly paid just a bit more attention to how she walked.  

            Later after she'd dressed and made certain Baloo and Kit were ready for the days shipments, she and Molly got in the car, and headed up town to Dr. Gosslin's office.  As they got closer, Rebecca started getting nervous. Maybe she should have told Gosslin to sugarcoat the truth a bit.  Molly was watching the traffic go by, evidently deep in thought…and Becky hoped that she wouldn't be devastated by the bad—she herself was already thinking of it as "bad"—news.   She sighed. 

            Molly heard her mothers sigh, and bit her lip.  Mom was _really_ bad at lying, she'd come to realize. She was even worse at it than _Baloo!_  Something was wrong.  Could Dr. Gosslin have found out that she was having a… relapse?  The eight year old shivered at the thought, and found herself hoping that the traffic would keep them away from the office, for just a little longer.

            No such luck.  Molly found herself waiting in the examination room, when Dr. Gosslin came in, her mother sitting by Molly.  

            "Hello Molly."  Dr. Gosslin said, "Ready?"

            "Yes!"

            "Doctor."  Rebecca said, "I have to warn you… Molly tried to walk home from school yesterday."  

            "Mommy!"

            "It's important he knows, sweetie."  Gosslin smiled, and turned to Molly.

            "And how did it turn out?"  Molly sighed.

            "I couldn't make it all the way home.  Kit had to help me get on his bus," she grumped.

            "I'm not surprised—given the rain and the fact that I know few people your age who would walk that far at a single time."  He continued, "And how are your legs today?"

            "They're…. A little stiff."  Molly admitted, the words unwillingly dragged out of her.   Gosslin made a note on his file.  

            "Well, that's to be expected…are you ready for the excercises?"  Molly nodded.  For the next  forty-five minutes, Gosslin put her through a series of excercises, ranging from simple reflex tests to work on the exercise machine that was in the corner, and the treadmill.  Molly did them all perfectly, although Gosslin noted by the end that her lips were pressed together in concentration, and there was just a tiny sign of trembling in her legs.  

            _Strength is fine—probably greater than other girls  her age, but reflexes and endurance are still below norms, _he noted in the file. 

            "So, when do I get completely better?"  Molly asked, bouncing in anticipation.  Gosslin and Rebecca shared a glance.

            "Molly…that's why I asked you to come here today."  He said.  "Take a look at this."  The doctor continued, holding out a graph.  Molly peered at it.  "The red line is your improvement." 

            The red line started off at the bottom.  Molly wrinkled her nose when she remembered how terrible _that_ had been.  Then it went up slowly, and then shot up.  The eight year old looked closer.  The last months, it barely moved at all!

            "Why isn't it still going up?"  Molly asked, with a tone that said she _better_ like the answer.

            "Because you're hitting what we call a plateau."  Gosslin said, "A period where your improvement slows down."  Molly's eyes went wide.  This _wasn't_ what she wanted to hear.

            "How long?"  Molly said, "It's been forever already!"    

            "For a time."  Gosslin said. "But I think the improvement will continue, but slower…but I expect that you'll be almost completely cured by the time you're ten."

            Molly's gold star in math came back to haunt her.  

            "Ten?  But that's a quarter as long as I've been _alive."  _ She said.  Gosslin blinked.

            "I didn't think you were so far ahead in math."  He said. Molly didn't seem to hear him.

            "Two _years_." The cub breathed.  "Isn't there any kind of medicine?"  Molly asked, "I don't care how bad it tastes!" Gosslin shook his head. 

            "I'm sorry, but the only cure is continued exercise."  The doctor said.  "You will continue to improve," he wanted to stress that, "but don't get discouraged if it seems to go… slower now."  

            "But if I keep exercising I _will_ get better?"  Molly asked. 

            "Yes."  Gosslin said.  _If only because the exercise will keep you from dwelling on things._  He thought. On the other hand, Molly was never one to dwell on the past. She'd proven _that_ over the last two years. 

            Rebecca spoke to Dr. Gosslin a bit more, both adults very much aware that Molly seemed to be lost in her own thoughts.  Molly's distracted goodbye was all she said until she and Rebecca were in the car, heading back to Higher For Hire. 

            "I'm _not_ quitting." She said, almost to herself.  Becky looked over at Molly and smiled.

            "Nobody's asking you to, Pumpkin…but."  Rebecca paused, "I thought Dr. Gosslin should tell you everything, rather than lie to you about it."  Molly nodded.

            "Thank you, Mommy."  She said.  The rest of the drive passed in silence.  Becky noticed that Molly had her arms folded together…

            Molly fumed.  It wasn't _fair!_  She'd done everything, and she was supposed to _win._  That's how it worked in the shows, at least.

            _I'll just have to work even harder…I'm not going to be 'moderate', I'm going to make myself better… stupid polio…_

_***_

            Later, when Kit and Baloo returned from their flight, Kit saw Molly stalking back and forth on the pier… stumbling once or twice.  Becky was there looking, even from a distance, distraught.

            "What's goin on?"  Baloo asked, and then grimaced, grabbing his chest.

            "Baloo?"  Kit asked.

            "Must have had one too many pinapple fizzies."  The bear responded.  He shook off the discomfort.  "Well, lets see what has Becker's in a twist."  As the plane slowed, Kit opened the door, hopped out (after the props were stopped—he'd already suffered through one weeks grounding for doing it the way some other pilots—including Baloo, did.) and secured the plane, hearing Rebecca and Molly talking. 

            "Molly… you don't have to keep exercising."  Becky said, wringing her hands.  "You should really stop now."  She said, an unexpected note of pleading her voice. 

            "Just another minute, please?"  Molly asked. Becky didn't say no, although Kit could see she desperately wanted to.

            "Sweetie…Dr. Gosslin said it was a plateau, not the end…"

            "No!" Molly said angrily, "I'm not going to stop!  Not for anything!"  Kit frowned at that. 

            _I think it's time for some brotherly talk._  He thought to himself.  

            "Ms.  Cunningham… I need Molly to help me with something."  He said. "Hey Molly, could you come over here?"  Kit smiled, putting his arm around Molly, and unnoticed by either of the two adults, holding her in such a way that she _was_ going to go where he wanted her too, steering her off the pier and behind the main building. 

            "Kit!"  Molly said in protest, and then the two were gone.  It was a sign of Rebecca's feelings that she didn't even try to stop them.  She sagged on the pier.  

            "Oh, Baloo."  She said,  "Molly didn't accept what Dr. Gosslin said at all.  She's been exercising for the last hour!"  Baloo sighed.

            "Well, Beckers, it was a bit much for Molly to accept _that_ being who she was…Maybe I'll talk to her."  The bear paused, then realized where Kit and Molly had disappeared to. 

            "Maybe I'll just leave it to Little Britches"  He continued.  He could use the nick name—Rebecca was the only one in ear shot, so he wouldn't have the…reaction, he'd gotten from Kit the last time he'd forgotten and used it.  Quickly, he looked around.  Rebecca caught the look.

            "Making certain Kit doesn't have any potential girlfriends in tow this time?"  Rebecca asked, a ghost of a smile on her face.

            "Man, I got an _earful_ after that mistake." Baloo said, then bent over abruptly with a small groan. "I never used to get indigestion like this."  He complained, trying to get his breath back.  Becky looked concerned.  

            "Baloo…seriously.  You're not 18 anymore."

            "Yah don't have to remind me, Beckers…"  Baloo said, "I know, trust me, I know."  He grinned, "But that doesn't mean 'Ol Baloo shouldn't have fun when he can."

            Meanwhile, Kit had gotten Molly around the corner.  

            "Molly, have you gone _nuts?"_  The teen asked. Molly glared up at him, rubbing her shoulder.

            "I'm _not_ going to stop."  She said, picking up what Kit was probably annoyed about.  "And you can't make me."  Kit opened his mouth to yell at her, than stopped.

            _I couldn't._  The 14 year old realized.  Trying to meet Molly in head on opposition to something she'd decided she needed to do was like putting a hole in the wall by using your head.  Painful and ultimately futile.  This required thinking…like the times he'd had to talk Baloo out of some spectacularly stupid get rich quick scheme. Kit thought, then brightened.  He knew _exactly_ what to use on Molly.

            "Well, OK."  Kit said.

            "And just because _you're_ 14 and _I'm _eight, doesn't- huh?"  She blinked.

            "But,"  Kit continued, "I hope you don't come down here…It's _hard_ to sleep when Miss Cunningham is crying all night."  

            "Wha-?"

            "Because I mean we both know what's going to happen.  You'll exercise to the point where your legs lock up, _worse_ than they did yesterday. Then…" Kit took a deep breath, "Miss Cunningham will have to try and massage it out and you'll scream and  cry-"

            "I'm _not_ a baby!"  Molly said.  Kit nodded. 

            "And you're not…Molly, _I'd_ scream and cry."  He said, in utmost seriousness.  "We all know how much it hurts."  Kit put out a hand and gripped Molly by the shoulder, "And you're probably tougher than any of the kids in high school, but you _will_ cry, Molly.  Am I wrong?"

            There was a pause. 

            "No." Molly said, in a quieter voice, looking down at the ground.

            "And your mom will have to sit there, listening to you  cry, and she won't be able to do anything about it…and after that, she'll go out and sit on the back door and cry herself, because she feels so _useless_."  Molly's anger was dissipating.  Kit could see her bite her lower lip.

            "But…but, _Kit_… Dr. Gosslin says it'll be two _years_."  She turned and smacked the side of the building.  "_It's not fair!"  _She said in a louder voice.  "I want to get better, I'll do anything, so why _can't_ I?"  Kit didn't say anything. Molly wasn't saying anything he hadn't thought.  

            "Molly." He said, "I know… but think of Miss Cunningham."  Kit smiled, "I'm not saying you can't exercise _more_, but keep it…fifteen minutes longer?  That's more than you normally do, so it would help you, but it wouldn't be so long that you'd need…" A gesture took in the building, and by extension, the basin and salts inside it.  Molly looked up at Kit.

            "Fifteen minutes?  An hour." The golden bear cub said.

            "Thirty minutes."  Kit said.  Molly thought about it, then looked up at Kit.  She _really_ hated the idea of mom crying.

            "OK."  Molly said.

            "Good!  Lets' go back."   Kit and Molly came back around to the adults, who both looked at him.

            "I'm finished, Mommy." Molly said, "I'm only going to exercise thirty minutes longer from now on."

            "Oh, that's-that's wonderful sweetie." Becky said, a catch of relief in her voice.   She didn't say anything to Kit at  that point, but Rebecca made a mental note to find out a way to thank Kit in the next few days.  As terrible as the noise would be, he'd had his eye on that trumpet…


	3. Chapter III

            Breaking Hearts, Chapter III.

            "Mac I cannot believe that you took the posting."  A Marine Colonel said.  The man he was speaking to, a short, stocky badger with the oak leafs of a Major on his uniform shrugged. 

            "They need help, Stan."  Mac shrugged, "C'mon, can you think of any other part of Usland that has been invaded, raided, and nearly conquered three times in the last year?"  He paused, "At the very least they need those cliff guns rebuilt so they can stop something other than a spitball….and I'm the one to do it."

            "Mac… Cape Suzzette is where careers go to _die_."  Stan said.  "You know it, I know it, everyone knows it—that's where they put people like that idiot Colonel Grog."  Both officers exchanged a momentary sneer at that.

            "Well, he wasn't a marine, now, was he?"  Mac said, indicating the globe and anchor  insignia on their uniforms. 

            "No, but…" Stan sighed. "Mac, you graduated a year ahead of me…and you should be colonel—hell you should be on the list for general!"

            "Well, the promotion board didn't agree with you."

            "Because you do not know _when_ _to keep your mouth shut!_"  Stan paused, "And because you threw a Lieutenant over the side of a ship."  Mac got a momentarily feral expression.

            "You're right, Stan…if I'd been thinking, I would have realized they'd just fish him out and just have shot the S.O.B."  Mac paused, "He gave the order, and then panicked and locked those kids in there."  Stan nodded soberly. Mac _could_ have been court-martialed, but it would have been difficult, given that after throwing that incompetent boob overboard, he'd gone down into the engine room, ordered it sealed behind him, and managed to bring the fire under control, before carrying out those crewmen who had been overcome by the fumes.  Difficult to court martial…but blocking his promotion was another thing, as was sending him to the most dead end assignment in all of Usland. 

            "In any case, I don't _miss_ high command."  Mac said, "Look at you—how long has it been since you've been able to get out in the field and out from under all the paperwork?"

            "You're accusing a superior officer of getting chair-parade spread?"  Stan said, "Hah!  If you weren't leaving, I'd invite you over to the mat for some unarmed combat practice and we'd see who needs a refresher."  He grinned and gripped Mac's arm.  "Still, be careful out there—that town has the weirdest things hit it. "

            "It'll be a vacation."  Mac said, getting into the seaplane.  Stan stepped back as the engines started up and the plan took off, heading to the horizon.  When it vanished, he turned and headed by to the HQ.  Thanks to Mac's transfer, he had a long night ahead of him finding another qualified officer.

            ***

            "What?  _Now? _  I can't…oh, I'll ask, but I can't guarantee anything."  Rebecca put the phone down, momentarily closed her eyes in frustration, and walked out to the dock.

            "Baloo?"

            "Oh no…."  Baloo said. Becky had that look of "I need you to take a deadly poison—or in this case, work."

            "Baloo… they just moved up the Winger Dancing Chicken Nuggets festival, and they need those jumping bean feed bags today."  Baloo frowned. 

            "Beckers…"  Baloo said, "Kit was hoping to hit the air festival with me-"  Kit looked up from where he was fishing.  

            "Don't worry, Baloo." Kit said, "It's open Monday to, 'cause of the long weekend."  The bear frowned…

            "Can I go?"  Molly said, looking up from beside Kit.  Kit got an expression on his face and turned to Baloo.

            "Sure!  Papa Bear, It's been forever since Molly went to Louie's!"

            "But what about you 'an your friends?"  Baloo asked. "We won't be back in time for that."  Briefly, duty warred with pleasure on Kit's face, as he opened his mouth to speak-

            "Kit doesn't have to go, Baloo." Rebecca said, "You and Molly could go by yourselves."  Baloo blinked at that.  

            "It's just a short flight." Rebecca said, "you'll be there in two hours and you can stop at Louie's on the way back."  Louie's, especially from Becky's mouth was a code word…in this case meaning "you can be late and I won't yell."  Baloo gave it long—well at least two microseconds—thought.

            "Sure!"

            "Yay!" Molly chimed in.  Baloo laughed. 

            "Well, just be certain to be home…before tomorrow."  Rebecca said, going inside to get Molly's coat.  

            Getting the cargo loaded took only a short amount of time—it had all been stacked and ready to go for the Monday shipment, and Rebecca had it in the front of the warehouse.  Kit grinned at that—Baloo had finally given in on his bosses "Crazy schemes" when he realized that her re-organization of the warehouse made for less work—there was no more crawling in and having to pull half the stuff _out_ to get at the days shipment…which was in the very back of the storage building.  Wildcat gave the Sea Duck a careful tuning, with Molly watching him and handing him tools.  Kit grimaced at that—he hoped the high school would let girls do planeshop when Molly got that old—she was turning out to have a real knack with tools and parts.

            Then, the Sea Duck was turning and heading for the open ocean, leaving Kit and Rebecca on the dock.  Becky smiled—Molly was clearly thrilled to be getting out with her….well near father, Rebecca guessed.  She put a hand on Kit's shoulder.

            "Kit, how about if  I treat you to lunch before you go out with your friends."  Kit grinned—Miz Cunningham normally went to places a little better than Baloo did—not that Kit minded where Baloo ate, but there were times…

            "Sure!"

            ***

            The delivery had gone very well—for once there were no pirates, monsters, storms, crazy scientists, or even paperwork problems at the end.  Molly had wanted to help Baloo unload the stuff, and he'd let her unload some of the smaller boxes.  To be honest, it seemed to take more out of him these days.  He wouldn't admit it to Beckers, but it might be time to cut back on some of the fizzies, and get a little more exercise…but he'd do that tomorrow.   The bear nodded at his resolution, conveniently forgetting that "tomorrow" had been one the schedule for nearly six months.  

            "Ready for Louie's, Pigtails?"

            "Sure!" Molly said, bouncing up and down with glee.   Baloo laughed at that, and turned the engines on, heading for paradise…well, Louie's but it was close. 

            As usual, Louie himself served them, as the joint was jumping with pilots coming in and out, and their girlfriends.  It was still early, so the band wasn't running, and the drinks hadn't started to flow—most of the pilots still had routes to fly.  That was fine with Baloo—later a night the place could get a little rowdy for Molly…or even for Kit.  That'd led to some…disagreements, but Becky had backed him up, and he had to admit that Kit really didn't like drunks.  Maybe had something to do with his Air Pirate days.  

            _Man listen to me… I'm like their pa…_  Baloo grinned, but then got a more serious look as he watched Molly neatly demolish her lunch before preparing for the main event—the utter destruction of one of Louie's confections.  It was weird, even now, over three years later…  taking off was no longer an option, not when you had people like Kit, pigtails, and yes, Becker's who depended on him.  

            Becker's especially.  He'd always thought "nervous breakdown" was something that just happened in the movies until a year ago.  Molly… well Molly always bounced back—she was like that.  But when he and Kit had shown up to her frantic phone call, to find the seven year old trying to shove tissue paper under the closed bathroom door to her sobbing mother, Baloo had about had one himself.  He wondered occasionally how much Kit knew about those months.

            "More 'n he lets on."  

            "Cuz?"  Louie asked.

            "Just thinking Louie…"  Baloo said, then noting that Molly was fully engrossed, "'bout last year."    Louie nodded.

            "Oh, Kit knows a lot." Louie agreed, "he just doesn't like to tell stories behind peoples back."  Baloo grinned, 

            "That's my boy."  He said. Kit _had_ been worried… he'd taken Molly back with him and Wildcat…but Baloo did remember the way his eyes had widened when Baloo had also handed him a box with all the sleeping pills in the apartment in it.  He'd never asked why…but yeah, he knew.  

            "So how's Becky doin?"  Louie said.

            "Fine, couldn't be better." Baloo said honestly. 

            "Mommy's upset that Dr. Gosslin says' it'll take me _forever_ to get better—at least two years!" Molly's voice came in.  Baloo started, remembering that Molly was also very perceptive.  

            "Two years?"  Louie asked.  "That's a long time, Short Stuff."  Molly nodded, her expression dark.  "But it'll go faster than you think."  He continued, "Have you ever been in school when you really wanted to do something else."

            "Yes…" Molly said, uncertain as to what Louie was about to say.

            "And I'll bet the clock just never moved."

            "Yes!" There was no doubt to _that.  _Louie laughed.

            "Well, there's the problem—If  you keep checking the time, and the clock, it doesn't go as fast—so don't, and it'll go faster."  Molly wrinkled her nose, trying to follow the logic.  Then she nodded.

            "I know…but it's _hard_ not to watch the clock."  Louie smiled at that.

            "Oh, I know that…but you'll do it Molly…'cause you've done everything _else_ you have to."  Molly nodded, and the Orangutan continued, "Like finish this up, since I don't want it to go to waste."  As he brought up an absolutely wonderful sundae.  Molly squealed in excitement, and set to work demolishing it with a will.  Baloo grinned.  That was _one_ job that wasn't going to be left half done.

            Later, they headed back to the Sea Duck, Molly thanking Louie as she left.  Louie grinned and gave her a courtly bow and kiss on the hand that had the eight year old giggling.  

            "Ready?" Baloo asked.  Molly nodded and happily headed to the Sea Duck. 

            "She don't seem slowed at all." Louie said. 

            "She ain't—unless she over does it." Louie nodded—during the dessert, Baloo had filled him in on her Friday adventure.  

            "Can't blame her—well 'Cuz, you take care now." 

            "Don't worry about me, Louie…" Baloo grinned and headed off down the pier.

***

In the air, Molly was watching as the island dropped away from them.  She loved Louie's… The only thing that annoyed her was that for some reason Baloo and Mom didn't let her go there when it was late.  

            But it was still fun.  She was nice and full, and now on the way back she could watch out the window and see the sun as it slowly descended towards the horizon.  That always excited Molly, knowing that when they were in the warm sun up here—the people in Cape Suzzette were already in the dark, seen it dip behind the horizon.  

            Baloo was grinning at her. She loved to fly—'an he had a feeling that she was going to be a pretty fair pilot.  Granted, most schools for women subscribed to the "Little Old Lady" School of flight, and Becker's would probably want her to go there to be safe, but he figured by that time, Kit could teach her, and Baloo and Kit between the two of them could undo any of the damage done by her official instructors.  In fact, it wouldn't be too-

            And suddenly a planet sized hand grabbed Baloo around the chest and squeezed. He gasped, trying to get back the air that had been forced out. 

            "Baloo?" Molly said, looking at him in alarm. Baloo couldn't see how pale his face had gotten, or the slight blue tinge around his lips.  He grinned. 

            "It ain't nothing, Pigtails…"  A gasp gave lie to that, and he saw alarm turning to real fear in her eyes.  

            _Oh man…this ain't no indigestion. _Baloo realized, _No! Kit ain't here, it's nobody but me 'an Pigtails, and she can't land the Sea Duck, hell she can't even fly her…  _Baloo unwillingly looked down to where Molly's feet dangled, a few inches and infinite miles from the pedals….the pedals that you would have to use to make a safe landing, and the 'Duck had more than her share of quirks—quirks that even an experienced pilot might have a problem with…  No, Baloo would have to fly her in and then he could call a doctor, or just take some anti-acid if it-

            The next squeeze around his chest made everyone that had come before pale. Baloo's vision grayed out around the edges of his sight, and even the instruments become dim in front of him.  His arms felt like thousand pound weights, and the pain in his chest was beyond description.  He needed to get some air in him and he'd be okay, he knew, that but it was so damned hard to breath…

            "Baloo?  Baloo!  What's wrong?"  Molly said her voice rising shrilly in fear.  Baloo felt himself sliding forward, and then realized what that would mean.  His inert body against the stick, pressing forward with more weight than Molly could ever hope to move—the duck would plow into the ocean like a thunderbolt… they'd be lucky to ever find the plane at all, and forget Pigtails surviving the crash.  

            "Mo-Molly."  Baloo got out.  Why was it so hard to talk now, when he needed to tell her what to do.  "You hafta take the yoke…I'm not fee"  He _did_ black out then, if only for a second.  "Well." 

            _I may not have many more words._  Baloo suddenly realized.  

            "Molly.  Keep the plane flying steady."

            "But I can't fly…" Molly said.  

            "Yeah you can…like when I let you fly on my lap…It's just like that."  Molly, tears coming down her cheeks, nodded.  Baloo didn't bother to mention that he'd been controlling the plane with his feet—it was a chance, however slim.

            "Get the radio, and turn it to 345 on the big dial." He finished, gasping.  That was the emergency guard channel—everyone left it open.  Of course pirates also monitored it, but if Karnage showed  up right now, he'd gladly give him every cent he had—all Molly would have to do would be keep the plane steady and they could board it.  "Keep…keep yelling for help…but…"  It was like struggling through Molasses, but Baloo persevered, "You have to say over when you here someone, or they can't talk to you…like you've seen Kit 'an me do."  

            "Baloo…Baloo!" Molly cried out loudly.  "Don't go!  Please don't go like Daddy!"  Baloo didn't have enough energy to wince at that. 

            "I'm not gonna go anywhere…just gotta take a little nap." Baloo said, "Don't fret, and you just do what I told you…"  Now, Baloo realized, one, possibly the last, thing he could do for Molly. The gray bear shoved his mass back and cinched the harness—no matter what happened now, he'd not fall forward.  He actually wasn't hurting anymore—it was just a nice drowsy feeling, as he felt suddenly warm….

            "Baloo…" Molly said, and then lurched as the Sea Duck, nobody at the controls, started to go into a spin…

            TO BE CONCLUDED.


	4. Chapter IV

Mac leaned back in the seat. The plane's autopilot was taking care of everything—he'd go back to manual when he was closer to Cape Suzzete and correct for drift there. He had to admit, even if he wasn't a fighter pilot, the plane was good—an example of the new fighter designs that were rolling off the assembly lines on the mainland. The only problem with the plane was that it had no internal cargo space—so his clothes, books, etc, were in the ventral cargo pod, where a fuel pod or bomb rack would normally go. He'd just have to remember to _not_ jettison it, or his next month's pay would go to replacing every uniform he had.

Molly hauled back on the yoke as hard as she could, but the Sea Duck was still turning to the right. Baloo shifted slightly, and suddenly the 'Duck was flying straight, if at a lower level. Molly looked out, just as the last of the sun vanished from the horizon, plunging the plane into darkness. Below, on the ocean, there were no lights—Molly had a sudden, horrified realization that she couldn't even see the ocean.

She was shivering in fear. She looked up at Baloo, but the gray bear was only a silent bulk against the stars—the lights of the cabin were out, and only the lights of the dials gave any illumination. Molly fumbled and managed to turn the radio on and turn it to the channel that Baloo had told her too.

"Is anyone there? Help!" She cried out, trying to keep her voice from breaking into sobs.

"Is anyone there? Help!" Mac bolted upright at the sound from the radio. Yep, it came from the emergency channel. It sounded young for a pilot as well.

"This is Kilo Lima Charlie, what is your emergency? Over." He said.

"Baloo's sick, 'an I'm the only one in the plane! He's real sick!…" there was a pause, and evidently the pilot—kid Mac was certain now, remembered, "over."

"Okay." Mac said, discarding the first several things he would have said to a pilot. "What happened to him? Over."

"He got real bad indigestion, and then his lips turned blue and he told me to call on this channel. Over." Mac, thought. Indigestion wouldn't keep a pilot from at least calling for help, and blue lips…heart attack. Almost certainly.

"How old are you? What's your name? Over" Mac asked.

"Molly Cunningham, I'm eight, and we have to do something for Baloo!" She didn't say over, but Mac was too busy turning pale to chide her. Eight years old. Christ. She probably couldn't even reach the pedals. As it was, Mac thanked several lucky stars that she was as clear headed as she had been.

"OK, Molly." Mac said, pitching his voice low. If he tried to talk over her, she'd just get louder until she was screaming into the mike. He'd seen it before—but pitch his voice low and _she'd _stay low trying to hear him. He'd been considering trying to talk her in, but right now, if they could get the pilot awake. "Do you have an autopilot—something Baloo used to fly the plane when he didn't want to? Over."

"Oh, yeah!" Molly said, "Mom made him install it after she saw him use the crowbar last time. Over."

"Okay, I need you to check two things. First of all, how high are you? Then how much gas do you have? Over."

"Mmmm… The altimeter says 5,000 feet. The fuel gage says 300 gallons." Molly said, "Baloo" her voice trembled "filled up at Louie's."

"Good. Now, can you reach the autopilot?"

"Uh-huh."

"Have you seen Baloo turn it on?"

"Yes." Mac nodded.

"Does it have an altitude dial?"

"Yes!"

"What's it at?"

"6,000 feet and when are we going to help Baloo!"

"Just as soon as we finish this. Turn it on." Molly did so, and she felt the Sea Duck stabilize, as the yoke grew still in her hand.

"Okay." Mac said when she told him, "Now, we're going to help Baloo."

_C'mon guy, come out o f it so you can land that plane._

"Get the breathing mask and put it around his neck. Molly nodded in the cockpit and got the mask. Mom had also insisted they install these, and she'd shown Molly what they did.

"Shouldn't I put it on his face?"

"No." Mac said, "the oxygen will help him, and if it's on his face, he might get confused." _No need to tell the kid about people drowning in their own vomit and other such wonders. _

"Okay." Molly said.

"Good kid! Now turn up the dial, full blast, give him as much as it'll put out."

"Okay!" Molly waited, and felt her trembling start up again. Baloo didn't look quite so bad, and he was still breathing, but he didn't wake, up, not even when Molly shook him.

"He's not awake!" The barely suppressed wail in her voice made Mac wince.

"He might just need some time—but right now, we need to find out where you are."

"I don't know!" Now the wail was not suppressed, "Kit knows how to navigate, but he isn't here!" And neither did Mac, he realized. The signal strength meant the plane could be anywhere in a three hundred mile radius, and his plane didn't carry Direction Finding gear—in any case, even if he did have DF, he'd need at least one more plane to get a bearing _and_ distance, and no matter how much fuel the plane had, they were working on a deadline. If she had gotten turned around and was flying back out to sea… Not to mention that the pilot was facing a deadline in the most literal term of the word.

"Can you read a compass?" Mac asked. He could almost see the jerky nod.

"Yes! It says… 224." Molly said. Mac quickly checked his chart—yeah they were heading in the right _direction_, but Cape Suzzete wasn't that big of a target, and he had no idea how far they'd drifted. He needed more help for this.

"Does Louie's have a radio?" Mac asked.

"Sure!" Molly said.

"Okay. Molly, don't touch the radio dial, but I'm going to have to talk to Louie—I can still hear you if something happens, this job is a dual frequency model, but if you talk you'll override the signal. Alright?"

"Yes-over." Molly remembered and if her voice trembled she was in control.

"Good kid." Mac quickly spun the other dial down to another frequency.

"This is Kilo Lima Charlie Calling Louie's. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday…."

At Louie's, the party was getting into full swing, when one of his helpers came running up to him.

"Boss! Someone on the radio for you—says' it's an emergency!" Louie loped over to the radio, losing no time, and turned pale when the voice told him what was going on.

"…Baloo appears to have had a heart attack—according to Molly he's alive but unconscious." Mac continued, leaving out what every adult knew—that a child might convince herself he was still breathing rather than face the other alternative. "They're heading 224, but I don't know how far they may have drifted—I need some help plotting where they started from, and where you are—I'm not from around here." The sound of the band had died out as the news about Baloo had spread through the bar, and now a table was cleared, plates and drinks clattering to the floor as Wiley Poole and several other pilots, freelancers and Khan air alike spread out a map.

"We're getting it." Louie said, loosing his accent. Behind him, the voices were raised.

"Okay, he left when—about 30 minutes ago?"

"The Sea Duck can do two-fifty easy."

"Not with the kid on board—Baloo would go slower."

"One-seventy five?" A compass described an arc. "Alright—Baloo's good—he doesn't correct at the end, he makes certain he's on the right bearing at the start—figure a five degree arc." Another pilot pointed to a position on the map. "If he lost it here, the plane wandered—say 10 minutes before the autopilot was put on." Another line was drawn. They nodded at each other.

While that was continuing, Mac asked Louie about Molly.

"Louie—if Baloo doesn't come out of it, we're going to have to bring her down—with Molly at the controls. How is she?"

"Short-stuff?" Louie asked. "She's the best, Mac—she won't let you down…but she can't reach the pedals." That brought a sound of disbelief from Mac.

"If Baloo passed out, they would have gone into a _spin_—she had to have been able to reach the pedals to recover it."

"Don't know what to say…" Louie was cut off as a pilot hustled over.

"Okay Mac—we think the plane's between these points," he said, rattling off a series of coordinates. Everyone in the room was silent. The coordinates were the best they could give, but if Baloo had been disoriented before the heart attack had knocked him out, or if he'd decided to take another route, or if any one of a hundred other chances, he could be hundreds of miles away from that point. Amateurs wouldn't understand—the Sea Duck was a seaplane after all, but to land on the water took greater skill than landing on the land did—you had to gauge the waves, so you landed on easy smooth water, not the wrong side of a wave, impacting the plane with hull shattering force. Molly couldn't do it—if they ran out of fuel, or even had to land on the water with fuel, the chances of her survival were nearly non-existent.

Getting into their planes wouldn't help—they were hopelessly far away from the action, as could be seen by the fact that Molly's mayday hadn't reached them. They would be called out if the Sea Duck dropped off the air, for the search for the place where the plane went down. Louie gripped his hands together, stilling the tremor, and got back onto the radio.

"I'll send the message through the relay—any planes coming out of Cape Suzzette will be looking for her."

"Thanks. Mac Out."

Molly was in the cockpit, waiting for Mac to get back to her. She couldn't hear the conversation between him and Louie. Except for the drone of the engines, and an occasional groan or sigh from Baloo, the plane was silent. Below her, the ocean was dark, a formless threat, above her the stars blazed down in lordly array. Molly looked up, trying to keep from crying and saw the stars that made the Southern Cross. Daddy had spoken about that once, she remembered, and abruptly, with diamond clarity, she remembered.

She was cuddled in Daddy's arm, looking up at the sky. Mommy was walking by Daddy, looking up at the sky.

_ "See that? Mommy looked up._

_ "The stars?" She asked._

_ "Yes." He said, and lifted Molly. _

_ "See those, Golden Bear?" Molly giggled and nodded. "That's the Southern Cross—it was put there for a reason. When sailors got lost upon the waters, and they feared they'd never make it to their destination, all they had to do was look up, and it would show them the way." Daddy smiled, "And they would know they weren't alone."_

_ "David." Mommy laughed. _

_ "Don't believe me?" Daddy said. "I like to think that's the case—the stars have been looking down on us a long, long time, Rebecca…I think they're friendly sorts, looking out for us in the only way they can…letting us know that we're not forsaken, that they'll point the way." Mommy smiled, leaning into him._

_ "That's my David…who says a district attorney can't be a philosopher." Daddy laughed and pulled her close. _

_ "Not me, at least—I would never contradict the most beautiful woman in the world." They both laughed, pulling Molly into their warm embrace, safe and protected. _

She could _see_ the Southern Cross, Molly realized. She smiled. She was still scared, but Daddy was right, they did look down on her, and she got the feeling that they and Daddy were looking out for her, pointing the way.

"Molly, this is Mac. Over" The radio spoke, and Molly grabbed the mike.

"Mac!"

"I think we know where you are, but it's going to take a little while for me to get to you, and I need you to turn on every light, landing lights, everything—okay?" Molly was flipping switches even as Mac spoke, watching as the interior lights came on, then the headlights, the running lights, everything.

"They're on!"

"OK…hang on, Molly, I'll be heading your way—and we'll keep talking." Mac said, "How's Baloo?" Molly needed no encouragement.

"He's breathing, but he hasn't woken up!" Mac continued leading her with questions, listening to see if the signal strength would drop off. As fast as his plane was, it wasn't fast enough. Mac sighed.

"Oh well, I didn't need the money anyway." He said, as he pulled a lever, and the cargo pod dropped into the dark ocean, with his uniforms, books, everything in it. "Maybe the fish will like them." The plane leaped ahead, roaring through the dark sky.

Mac turned off his lights—Molly might have been able to see them, but they probably weren't as bright as a cargo planes, and in any case, he needed his night vision to see her. A flicker caught his attention. Was it…

"Molly—I'm going to turn on all my lights now, tell me if you see anything."

"I-yes! I see it!"

"Is it getting closer?"

"Yes!" Mac breathed a sigh of relief. A few minutes later, and he was flying just above and to the right of the yellow airplane, holding station on it. He could see in the lighted cockpit, a large gray bear and the small yellow bear cub hanging onto the control yoke.

"OK." Mac said, "Molly, I'm going to stick by you, but you have to turn now, slowly to 254 degrees. Watch the compass."

In the Sea Duck, Molly nodded and biting her lip, turned the plane slowly. Finally, the compass came to 254.

"Aren't we going to Cape Suzzette?"

"No. We're going to a military base—they have doctors there that can help Baloo." Mac said reassuringly. _And better crash teams in case you crack up on landing._

Back at Higher For Hire, Rebecca entered the room, Kit in tow.

"Thanks for the dinner, Miz Cunningham." Becky smiled,

"I know what type of food Baloo likes, Kit, and-" The phone rang. Becky got a sour expression on her face. "I hope it isn't another client—you would think they would understand that we're not a 24 hour business and-" She picked the phone up and Kit started as he saw her face drain of color.

"I understand…yes, we'll stand by here."

"Miz Cunningham?" Kit asked as she put the phone down. "Is it Molly?"

"No Kit." Rebecca said in a very calm voice, "Baloo's…had an accident."

"…So you're getting over a case of polio?" Mac continued, "Pretty impressive."

"I hate it." Molly said, "I wish it was all over."

"I can understand. I never had anything as bad as Polio, but I've been in the body and fender shop a few times myself." Mac paused, "Er, in the hospital."

"Are you coming to live in Cape Suzzette?" Mac nodded in his cockpit. Good. The kid was as calm as she could be. Damned level headed too, which was a good thing, given what was going to happen in the next few minutes.

"Yep—my bosses found some work for me. Your cliff guns need fixing."

"Hmph. They _never_ keep out people." Mac grinned. Take _that, Colonel_ Grog. But now it was time—he was in range of the military base. If he'd told Louie where they were going, he was certain the base would have been notified—with enough time to risk some stuffed shirt deciding he didn't want to risk a crack-up on _his_ base, and order them to some other, less well prepared, landing location. Now, there wasn't a choice.

Marsdon Air Base was quiet. No planes landing or taking off for the next several hours, and so the crew in the tower were reading books, talking, or dozing, when the call came in.

"This is Kilo Lima Charlie. I'm escorting a seaplane that has had a major in flight emergency and is currently without a trained pilot. I'm declaring an Emergency and request you clear your main runway for landing." Books flew in random directions as the crew headed to the microphones. The shift leader, a lean coyote in the uniform of a captain picked up the mike.

"This is Marsdon Air Control—what's the nature of your emergency and why cannot the other plane talk?"

"The other plane's pilot has had a heart attack, and currently the only one flying it is an eight year old girl." Mac paused, "So I figured we'd better get the plan in place before we tell her what to do. You need me to repeat the message? Over." The captain had paled, but he came back gamely.

"Negative, can you see the airbase?"

"No. I think we're on track for it, but if you could turn on some lights…"

"I'll do better." The captain turned to the crew.

"Turn on every light, searchlights, runway lights, the whole thing—we'll turn them off when the planes get closer so we don't confuse the kid, but they need to find us." With that, he turned and mashed his hand down on the red button that would bring the base to alert.

With that, the lights came up, even as the howl of klaxons echoed across the no-longer sleeping base.

"OK. We're getting ready—what's the kid like."

"Pretty calm—but she's eight and she can't reach the pedals…"

"And that means there's damn all chance of her landing the plane." The captain finished.

"Pretty much it—you're the nearest base with foam and catch barriers…" Captain Higgens nodded. The foam could cover the runway, snuffing out any sparks that might catch the high octane fuel alight, and the catch barriers—really a series of nets spread across the runway would catch a plane that had lost its brakes—or one who's pilot couldn't reach the pedals.

"What's her fuel load."

"Hang-on." Mac turned to the Guard frequency. "Molly, read the fuel dial again, please?"

"OK—200 gallons." She said. "Can we land? Baloo needs help!"

"Soon." Mac said. Then, to Higgens, "200 gallons. She'll have less when she gets to you."

"Good." Neither man needed any help to imagine the plane hitting the ground and rolling, as the fuel from shattered tanks sprayed out to ignite, foam or no, into a blazing holocaust. "She knows you—can you guide her in?" Higgens asked.

"I think so—she just has to stay on the line of the main runway…"

"Right—I'll be on the frequency for the final approach."

Molly waited, and saw the blazing point on the coast far ahead. Then, Mac was back on the radio.

"OK Molly, that's the base where we're going to—they have a hospital and everything for Baloo, but first we have to land."

"How-how am I going to stop?" Molly asked, suddenly realizing that she couldn't reach the pedals.

"You won't have to—we're setting up some big nets—like king-sized butterfly nets, and they'll do that—you just have to make certain that you come in slow and level." Mac grinned, "And that won't be a problem. Now, you're going to have to take the autopilot off—be _careful. Y_ou don't want to over correct." He continued in a voice calm as if he was suggesting lunch, while his hands tightened around the stick as he thought of just every way things could go bad. The girl was almost down.

Unfortunately, most plane crashes occurred _during_ landing.

Meanwhile, the base was like an anti-hill that had been kicked over. The main runway was being covered in white foam, while the catch barriers were being erected—five of them, each one designed the slow the plane rather than completely stop it, so that the nets would gradually slow it rather than risking a catastrophic stop.

On the sides of the runway, the fire and medical vehicles had been moved out, with firefighters, looking inhuman in their asbestos protective clothing, waiting by the high pressure hoses of their vehicles.

"Molly." Mac said. "The airbase commander is going to talk to you—but you have to do what he says immediately—you can't hesitate, even if you think its wrong, or dumb. Understand?"

"Yes." Molly said, shivering.

"OK—before that, we need to lower your flaps—you see the lever I told you about?"

"Yes…"

"Pull it back, slowly." Mack watched as the Sea Duck's flaps lowered, increasing the resistance of the airplane. Yep, she was slowing.

"OK—that means you're going slower—you can't do anything until we get closer to the ground, so remember, Captain Higgens is going to talk to you, and you need to listen to him, and do what he says, _right away,_ for Baloo's sake. OK?"

"I understand…" Molly said.

"She's yours, captain."

"Thanks—Molly." Higgens started, "This is Captain Higgens." He had thought to try to calm her down, but the Marine had warned him that the kid had a good BS detector, and so he needed to be honest. "We're going to try and bring you down, so you need to lower your landing wheels." Molly nodded.

"I am." She said. Baloo had let her do that before.

"They're down." Mac said from his vantage.

"Now, you need to come down directly in the middle of the runway—it's the only one with lights on. See it?"

"Yeah…" Molly said. "But it's covered…"

"That's foam—it'll keep the sparks down so-" Higgens bit his lip, but Molly picked up on it.

"So the Sea Duck won't catch on fire?" She asked.

"Yes." Higgens said, kicking himself. Mac was right about the kid. "You have to come in low, so the barriers will catch you, but once you do, you can't try and turn the plane—do you understand? No matter what happens, you have to keep flying straight."

"I understand." Molly said, trying to keep a shiver out of her voice.

"Good. No time like the present." Higgens said. "Follow Mac's plane and he'll loop you around to get ready to land." Molly looked as Mac's plane waggled its wings at her and made a slow turn.

"He doesn't think I'm going to land, does he?" Molly asked.

"He's worried." Mac agreed, "Wouldn't you be if an eight year old wanted to land on your nice new runway?" Molly felt herself smile at the image. Mac continued, "So we just have to make certain we don't put any dents in it. Molly, the Sea Duck is gonna buck the first time it hits the foam, and then again when it hits the barrier—don't flinch, that's normal. Are you strapped in?"

"Kinda."

"No Kinda's—strap yourself in as good as you can—you don't want to get thumped when the plane hits the ground." Mac waited.

"I am—it's hard to reach the controls, but I can."

"Good kid. OK—you're lined up on the runway. Remember, do what Higgens' says, and do it that instant, 'kay?"

"Alright." Molly said, taking a deep breath. She could do this.

Higgens had the mike in his hands, as he spoke to the kid.

"Okay, start your descent…er, start going down, _slowly_… "

"You're drifting—turn a little bit to the right…good. Keep going down…"

"Now…you're going to hit the runway don't turn….she'll try to buck, but don't let her turn… You'll hit the runway in five, four…three…two…one-hold her!"

The wheels of the Sea Duck touched the ground and Molly gave a cry as the plane started to whipsaw all over the runway, sending foam cascading up and over the wings, all of her strength wasn't enough to hold it, and the plane started to slide to the right-

Baloo didn't say anything, but the pressure eased from the yoke, and Molly, eyes wide noticed how one of the gray bears feet had pressed down on the rudder pedals, bringing the 'duck back onto the straight course.

"Ba-" She started- WHAP! The first catch barrier grabbed the plane, wrapping around the props and wings. Molly screamed, her voice in tune with the squeal of failing bearings as the right prop halted, caught in the web of the first barrier.

WHAP! The second barrier enshrouded the Sea Duck, and the craft gave a lurch as the left pontoon ripped off.

In his plane, Mac tensed, the plane was still moving fast, but there were still three more barriers—and it was slowing up.

WHAP! Now the right tire shredded, rubber flying across the runway, and sparks spraying out before being doused by the foam. But the plane was going much slower.

WHAP! The fourth barrier caught the seaplane, caught it, stretched, and held. Molly squeaked as she was pulled forward and then back into the seat as the planet finally came to a halt. Meanwhile, outside the window she could see the red lights of what looked like every emergency vehicle in the world coming to her, as behind them, on another runway, Mac's plane touched down.

"Baloo?" Molly said, hopefully. They were one the ground now, maybe he would wake up? No. Other than the pressing of the pedals, he was still unconscious. Or maybe even dying. Molly started to reach out and touch him, when his door was flung open and the medical team pulled him out, using cutters on the straps, not even bothering to undo them the right way.

"Hey!" Molly said, trying to get out of her own tight harness. But by the time she'd undone the straps, Baloo was already on a gurney, being wheeled to the ambulance waiting on the side of the runway.

"Wait!" She shouted, as the team, without even talking to her, slammed Baloo into the ambulance and took off across the tarmac, the lights flashing. Molly charged after them, almost slipping in the foam, ignoring the curious gazes of the fire fighters, or the fact that Mac's plane had come to a halt.

Mac saw the small figure dart across the field after the ambulance. That wouldn't do—the hospital was just over a mile away, and in any case, an active airfield was no place for a kid to be wandering—he had no idea if any _other_ planes were coming in tonight. With a cheerfully ruthless application of Major-fu, he dispossessed a Lieutenant of his jeep.

Molly ran as fast as she could, but the ambulance easily outdistanced her, vanishing into the complex. Molly staggered, tripped, and went sprawling, getting up again, just in time to see the vehicle's taillights disappear behind a building. Molly bit her lip and started to stich. She couldn't do anything now—Baloo was gone, and he might be dying, and she'd broken the Sea Duck and-

"Eeep!" Molly gave a surprised scream as Mac drove by, and without a pause, scooped her up in one hand, flipping her _over_ him, and then down into the seat next to him.

"Buckle up!" He said, and Molly recognized the voice of the man on the radio. Molly did, but didn't say anything as Mac drove over to the hospital, hopping out of the jeep even as Molly got out of her side.

Mac strode into the lobby, looking for the desk. There it was, with a private filling out forms.

"What's the status on the pilot?" Mac asked shortly. The private looked down at the kid, up at Mac and spoke.

"They've got him in emergency one—filled him up with adrenalin and he's breathing on his own, but he's not conscious."

"Adrenalin?" Molly asked.

"It's a drug—they inject it into, ah you," Mac said, "and it starts your heart working faster."

"And then what?"

"Well, we wait—Louie said he'd call your mom, so she'll be here pretty soon."

"But Baloo!" Molly said, her hands fluttering, "What are we going to do for him?"

"Let the doctors do their work. They don't like people looking over their shoulder." Molly sagged and rubbed her eyes with her fists, an angry gesture betrayed by her trembling form.

"This isn't right—we wouldn't have stopped at Louie's if I hadn't been on board, and he wouldn't have had the heart attack and the Sea Duck is busted, and Baloo may _die_ and it's _all my__ fault!"_ That last came out in a croaking choked wail. She turned and flumped down into the seat pushing her face against the wall. Mac looked over at the private who took the hint and himself down the corridor to another office, leaving them in the empty hallway. Mac looked at the shaking figure of the child, reached a hand out, then pulled it back and sat down next to her.

"Um…" Mac said, "That's true, but you need to see the _whole_ picture, Molly." He paused, "Baloo was gonna have a heart attack sooner or later—and what if you hadn't gone with him, and Kit had stayed home to?"

"I…" Molly said, but Mac continued.

"He would be _dead_ now, Molly—Baloo would have gone unconscious like he did, only there would be nobody to call for help, or keep the plane in the air—nobody would even have thought to _look_ for him until tomorrow at the earliest." He shrugged, "So yeah, you can think that he went on this trip because of you, and this is all your fault…or think that you happened to be in the right place at the right time to save his life."

"But… what if Baloo _dies?"_ Mac shook his head.

"Don't borrow trouble." Mac looked down at her, "Because it _won't do any good._ You can sit her and think about all the bad things that can happen…" he snapped his fingers, "Like landing the Sea Duck…. When you started coming down, did you think about crashing, or landing?"

"Landing." Molly said.

"Same thing here."

"But I can't _do_ anything."

"True…but I think you've done a lot for one night—those doctors needed to have Baloo brought to them, and you did that. Now…" Mac shrugged, "You need to rest, because they may need to ask you questions, and in that case you need to be able to answer." The badger looked down at her, and nodded. "And I think the first thing for that is to go get some food."

_"Food?"_ Molly squeaked.

"Yep, the hospital commissary is just right behind that door." Molly was still trembling, and Mac handed her a tissue paper so she could wipe her eyes, but she was better.

"Hospital food is _bad."_

"No…hospital food just isn't good. This is _military_ hospital food, which _is_ bad."

"Oh." Mac paused,

"How did you keep the plane from going off the runway—it looked like you were going to lose it their for a moment."

"Baloo helped me. He didn't say anything but he pushed the pedals." Mac nodded.

_The Kid must have been imagining it…_ Then he looked again at her, _But__ on the other hand, there's no way she could use the pedals strapped in. _Mac nodded.

"I bet he did at that." He said. "Well, lets get something to eat, and wait for your family." Molly looked up and Mac grinned. "Louie called 'em." Molly looked worried.

"Mom's going to yell at Baloo…she's been _trying_ to get him to eat better."

"Well, maybe he needs a little yelling at."

"No. That's _dumb_… Baloo never does things when you yell at him." Molly said with finality. Mac smiled. The kid was something else. More importantly, she was calming down… like Mac had intended.

To be concluded: (Really, next part IS the end).


End file.
